


Voices Carry

by BB_Glitz



Series: I Wore Black and He Wore White [7]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-26 13:45:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13236987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BB_Glitz/pseuds/BB_Glitz
Summary: Soldiers meet spies.Inspired by the song "Voices Carry" by Til TuesdaySequel to "We Have Already Paid"





	Voices Carry

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! 
> 
> Life happened and it was awful but here's the next part if anyone still cares. I'm going to try to wrap this up in the next few months. 
> 
> Comments are welcome. Enjoy :D

The insistent buzz from somewhere to his right could only be his phone.

Steve slowly lifted one lid, then the other and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim blue light.

**[TARGET: JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES***

**BOUNTY: €1.5 MILLION**

**CURRENT EMPLOYER: HYDRA N. AMERICA**

**AGE: 32**

**HEIGHT: 1.82 m**

**TRAINING: CQC: KRAV MAGRA, MUAY THAI, AIKIDO; EXPERT SNIPER**

***Approach with caution]**

 

He sighs and makes to roll over.

Then, the screen scrolls to a picture he was not expecting.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he says.

**[TARGET: T’CHALLA***

**BOUNTY: €2.5 MILLION**

**CURRENT EMPLOYER: S.H.I.E.L.D.**

**AGE: 35**

**HEIGHT: 1.82 m**

**TRAINING: CQC: CAPOEIRA, JUJITSU, AIKIDO, BUSHIDO;**

***Approach with caution]**

 

Steve breathes out a gust of air.

He just bought them an anniversary present.

Agent Rogers begrudgingly gets out of bed.

\-----------------------

James slides into the booth across from Stevie.

Steve calmly glances up from the rough sketch of….he and his husband at their reception five or six years ago.

“You know,” Steve starts “I woke up and decided I needed a mental health day.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. It gets rough before tax season,” James replies.

Silence.

“Why does the company want to fire you so badly?” Steve asks.

“He’s a pro.”

“Who is?”

“You’re cute but your poker face is shit.”

“Fuck off. Talk.”

“Which one first?”

“James Buchanan.”

“We met in Paris…”

\----------------------

Shuri watched the two men from her corner booth near the kitchen.

They barely spoke above whispers except for affectionate barbs.

She listened for about half an hour.

They weren’t exchanging new information.

Shuri watched the blinking blue dot that represented her brother pacing about his townhouse in Paris.

_‘He’s so sentimental’_

She put down $30 and left the diner.

As her Corolla came to life, her phone rings through the speakers.

“Shuri what do we have?” Director Fury asks.

He knows, but he needs to assess all variables, agents included.

“T’Challa is at the Paris apartment,” she says.

“Is he?” Fury counters.

“Yes, I turned on the embedded tracker,” she replies curtly.

“Hmm, continue,” he says.  

“Barnes met with Rogers today. Rogers is still a friendly. Do you want me to move in on Pierce?”

“Not needed. Keep up surveillance until further notice,” Fury replies.

“Sir.”

The call cuts out abruptly.

\-------------------------

T’Challa relaxes into the slipper chair in the darkened corner that faces the living room.

Alexander Pierce casually walks into the kitchen and only pauses after he’s poured himself a glass of milk.

He stares at T’Challa. The shaft of light from the security lamp outside makes his eyes a ghoulish pale blue.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has a flair for the dramatic. Want anything?”

The turn of a lock and the shuffle of feet draw T’Challa’s attention.

“Mr. Pierce. I just came back for my phone. Is everything all right sir?” Renata says.

“Just fine. Good night Renata.”

She nods and leaves silently.

“Now, what’s your angle?” Pierce asks.

“No angle. Just the truth.”

T’Challa waits for two beats.

“You have imbibed a particularly violent toxin. I have the antitoxin, so call off your dogs.”

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?”

“Rumlow. Rollins.”

“Your agents are having a much-needed break. Call off the kill order.”

T’Challa watches Pierce’s fist tighten and spasm as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

“36 hours. Good evening,” T’Challa says finally.

He places the case containing the syringe on the bottom step leading to his front door.  

He longs to finish this with no mercy, but he wants Pierce to squirm.

 


End file.
